Two Orphans
by Roslin Fan
Summary: Rusty has to read a book for school, but he has no interest in reading about an orphan girl... Warning for references to child abuse, non-con/underage, and brutality.


Rusty entered the murder room in a huff, throwing his bag down on the desk with enough force to kill it-if it weren't an inanimate object. It was eerily similar to the way he'd been during their early days. The team glanced from him to Sharon, knowing she'd need to step in.

She racked her brain. He'd been fine that morning. Pleasant even. She made him breakfast, and he chatted in the car about the chess club and his friends. From across the room, she checked him over. No signs of a fight. She gave a silent prayer of thanks for that. She didn't need to deal with the Catholic Church again. It was bad enough she worked for the Pope. When had she developed Andy's sense of humor? Never mind. She'd deal with that later.

She crossed the room, approaching the table as everyone scattered. There were a lot of spontaneous coffee breaks in the squad. "Rusty? What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "That stupid school." He opened his book bag and pulled out a book, showing it to her. "They're making me read a stupid girl's book."

Anne of Green Gables. She smiled, which probably annoyed Rusty, but she was relieved. This was a problem she could handle. "It's a classic. One of my favorites."

It was. Anne was a lot like Sharon when she was growing up. In a world of bullies and heartaches of not fitting in, Anne Shirley was her best friend. Rusty'd like her too if he gave her a chance.

"Why don't you read it then?"

"I will."

The shock on his face was precious. She'd never calmed him that quickly before. "No, buster. Don't think I'm doing it for you." She lowered her voice. "That would be cheating, and you know how I feel about rules."

He groaned.

"I'm going to read it with you. We can talk about it. It'll be kind of fun." She smiled. "Like a book club."

Sykes appeared from nowhere. "Book club? Can I join?"

Sharon smiled at her protege. "Sure. We're reading Anne of Green Gables."

"Anne! She's my favorite!"

Rusty groaned. "Does everyone like her?"

Sharon put her hand on his shoulder. "Rusty, I promise you, if you give her a chance, you'll like her too." She ruffled his hair. "She kinda reminds me of you."

"You calling me a girl?!"

Oh no. How did that happen? "Of course not. I just mean you have similar personalities."

He acquiesced or seemed to. He didn't say anything else. "We'll stop at the bookstore on the way home, okay?"

He nodded.

She looked up and saw the others moseying over to their desks. They looked at her expectantly. She shrugged, and they sat down. "Keep up the good work, everyone," she said, before going into her office.

Anne of Green Gables. It's been so long. It wouldn't be the same book after forty years. They'd both changed. She sighed. Time to get back to work.

She opened the file on her desk. The sights still shook her. Her time working alongside Brenda hadn't prepared her for this-for folders filled with pictures of dismembered bodies. The files she looked at in FID were mostly of bruises, cuts, non-lethal wounds. Not that there wasn't the occasional death, but those were...impersonal. There was no hatred there, no cruelty. It was just...a mistake, not to put a death in those terms, but really that's what it was when guns and police officers were involved. Someone pulling the trigger, making a judgement call. It was her job to assess the shooter's right to pull that trigger. Now it was her job to find out who, why, when, where, (sometimes) and how, and then put the suspect away. It was personal, and despite the suspects' claims otherwise, it was never a mistake.

She glanced out at the murder room. Rusty had opened the book and was reading it. He hadn't thrown it across the room; that was a good omen. She smiled, before looking back down at the horror. They'd get the guy. They always did.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"You were right."

She smiled. "Could you repeat that? I don't think I heard you."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't push it, Sharon."

"You don't hate it, do you?"

He shook his head. "I don't hate it."

That was good enough for her. She buckled in and put the car in drive. After the day she had, she couldn't wait to pick up her own copy.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

They sat at home on opposite sides of the couch. Sharon must have been a fast reader because she already caught up to him. She'd smiled, reminding him it wasn't a race, but if she was gonna take his school work seriously, so would he.

Anne was a young girl who never shut up, but she was smart, and she just wanted someone to love her. The pages went by quickly, but then he came to something he didn't expect.

He earmarked the page, closing the book and looked at Sharon. "That drunk father...he..."

Sharon nodded. "Yeah."

"But she's so happy."

Sharon shook her head. "No, honey, she isn't. She wants to be happy. And she has such a personality that can't be crushed, but she's hurt very deeply." She sighed. "You ever hear of the 'talking cure?'"

He shook his head.

"It was really popular around the time this was written. Basically, Anne talks so much so she can cure herself and everyone else around her."

He nodded. "It's not just a stupid kid's book."

She smiled. "No. Not at all."

"How do you know so much about this stuff?"

"Aside from being a million years old." He snorted. "I took a lot of psychology courses. That was my minor. One of my seminars was a study of children's literature. We read this book."

"Does the talking cure work?"

She shrugged. "It seems to for Anne." She sighed. "I think everyone has different cures."

"I still don't want to talk to a shrink."

She nodded.

"I'll talk to you, though."

She smiled. "I'd like that."

"I'm tired, Sharon. Good night."

He got off the couch, holding the book. As he passed Sharon, he leaned down to hug her. "Good night, honey," she said.

He went into his room. Maybe they could give this 'talking cure' thing a try.


End file.
